


Knock, Knock

by AlwaysSpeaksHerMind



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Canon Compliant through 1x12, F/M, Feelings and Sarcasm, Fluff and Humor, Kind of AU, One Shot, Some kissing, Tagging as teen to be safe, Talking, but seriously it's just kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-04 05:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10984017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysSpeaksHerMind/pseuds/AlwaysSpeaksHerMind
Summary: Archie gets a late-night visitor when Veronica leaves Betty's slumber party, tired of dealing with Cheryl.I wrote this before Chapter 13 aired as a taking-place-in-season 2 kind of fic. It kind of works if you put it in the timeline between the end of Chapter 12 and the beginning of Chapter 13, but it works best if you pretend the finale didn't happen and this is several months after Chapter 12.





	Knock, Knock

     For the last six hours, Archie had been camped out on the couch watching bad horror movies. His dad had left for the weekend to see about some supplies for the company. Jughead had gone to take care of something or other at his dad’s trailer and planned on spending the night. Kevin was still recovering from his breakup. And since Veronica, Betty, and Polly had all decided that somebody needed to reach out to Cheryl who was basically alone in that gigantic mausoleum of a house and were having a sleepover (definitely Betty’s idea), Archie was officially at loose ends. _Very_ loose ends. He had never considered himself much of a people person, but now that everyone was gone or busy, he was beginning to think that maybe Jughead was right—he was Mr. Socially Dependent. Funny, he thought, how a house that had never had more than three people living in it could feel so empty with just one person. But boy, did it, and God, was it depressing.

     He sat glumly, sprawled out, feet up on the table, wondering if he was losing it or if the monster in this movie was more intimidating the past three ones had been. Then came the knock, the noise loud in the room’s stillness.

     Frowning, Archie muted the TV.

     “Dad?” he called, wondering what could have possibly brought Fred Punctual-Is-My-Middle-Name Andrews back sooner than expected.

     There was no answering rattle of a key turning in the lock, so Archie swung his feet off the coffee table and got up, grabbing his dad’s old baseball bat from the boot closet—just in case. He knew his stupid movie marathon in combination with recent events in Riverdale had made him skittish, but that knowledge wasn’t very reassuring, so he took the thing anyway and tiptoed to the door. He was in the process of trying to peek out the window to get a look at the porch when a shadowy face appeared inches from his, separated only by the pane of glass.

     “Hy—ah!”

     Emitting a weird, squawking yelp, Archie stumbled back at the same time that the face completely disappeared from view. There was a crashing of branches, a faint thump, and then, finally, a faraway, muffled curse.

_Jughead,_ he realized, rolling his eyes. It was just like the bozo to change his plans and then decide that texting was too much trouble. And considering how many cracks he’d made about the abysmal quality of what Archie was watching, it would also be just like him to play peeping tom for scare tactics. Sliding the window up, Archie leaned out, scanning the shadows for his idiot friend.

     “Jug, what are you doing?” he demanded, finally spotting a shapeless figure sprawled in the shrubbery. “It’s almost midnight.”

     An annoyed whisper floated up to him from the depths of the bushes. “Oh, my _God._ I know it’s dark, but for what had better be the last time, do I _look_ like Jughead to you?”

     Archie’s eyes widened. “Ronnie?”

     There was a rustle of branches and then her head popped up about a foot or so beneath him, making him jump again. “Yes. It’s me. What takes so long to answer a stupid door? Were you holed up in your musical lair composing a’ la Phantom of the Opera again?”

     He laughed, even though it was kind of an insult. “Uh, no. I was just—okay, Veronica, I have no problem answering any question you want to ask if you’ll just tell me why you’re creeping around my house and ruining my dad’s landscaping job at this time of night. Aren’t you supposed to be over at Betty’s right now?”

     She made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a growl. “I _was._ But the redheaded spawn of Satan changed my plans.”

     Archie raised his eyebrows, trying not to laugh. She was clearly beyond pissed, but even in her rage, sarcasm hadn’t deserted her. “Are you referring to me, or…?”

     “Oh, you know who I mean,” she grumbled. “And yes, I’m fully aware that she’s been through a lot and that that last comment officially makes me a horrible person, so do _not_ lecture me. One, I’ve already heard it from Betty. _And_ Polly. Two, if she hadn’t been through a lot, I would have ripped her hair out strand by strand instead of fleeing the scene of battle. You know, for a person with such a heartrending backstory, she’s remarkably difficult to sympathize with. How is it even possible to want to throw something at the head of someone’s who’s just lost their twin brother and murderous father? What exactly am I missing?”

     It was getting hard now to not grin. “I believe it’s called patience, Ronnie.”

     She huffed out a disgusted sigh. “Right. Patience, the one commodity no Lodge has ever possessed in surplus. Mind if I pay you a visit? I sort of stormed out of Betty’s in righteous anger and got halfway down the block before I realized I forgot my purse. And since Mom’s out of town organizing things for Daddy’s homecoming and I gave Smithers the day off because I wasn’t expecting to be home, I had to stop. Returning for my keys now would give that Jessica Rabbit wannabe _far_ too much satisfaction.”

     “Sure, come on in.”

     The words were barely out of his mouth when her hands and forearms appeared on the windowsill, illuminated by the dim light from the TV. But the combination of the severely-sloped flowerbed and her small height meant that her best efforts only got the top half of her body to the sill before she fell back with a grunt that made him laugh.

     “What?” she said, propping her hands on her hips and glaring up at him. “Did I forget to say ‘Let down your ginger hair?’”

     Archie tried to cover his grin. “No, but, uh—Ronnie?” He tried and failed to restrain a laugh when she made a gawky spring at the window and bumped her chin on the sill. “Don’t you want to use the door?” he asked, catching her wrists and helping her clamber up awkwardly. “You know, like—a normal human being?”

     She snorted, landing with a thump beside him. “I’m not a normal human being. According to Cheryl Drama Queen Blossom, I am a pint-sized female Dracula with the intelligence of a beetle and the fashion sense of a seventy-year-old construction worker with a beer gut.” Tossing her hair back she glanced down at herself. “To be fair, she’s currently justified in the fashion criticism.”

     “Huh?”

     Archie frowned. Then he got a better look at his visitor when she turned to close the window and nearly choked. The one time he’d seen her in her nightclothes—and that was not the kind of thing anyone with eyes would forget—she’d been in a shiny little blue shorts outfit. Now, she looked like she’d been eaten by a giant bag of colorful fabric.

     “Veronica,” he said slowly, working very hard to keep a straight face. “Are you wearing flannel pajamas?”

     She sighed heavily, pushing past him. “Yes. _Yes_ , I am wearing flannel pajamas, _yes,_ they are three sizes too big because they were purchased for Polly and were too big for her in her present condition, and _yes,_ those hideous things are skiing penguins. I am wearing _skiing. Penguins,_ Archie. That’s how my evening’s gone.” Coming to a stop in the middle of the living room floor, she surveyed the TV, hands on hips. “I’m going to go out on a limb now and say yours hasn’t been all that thrilling either?”

     Archie shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he headed back to his seat on the couch. “You could say that. I mean, it’s been pretty boring, but I’ve had worse.”

     Personally, he thought the night was looking up. In under ten minutes, he’d gone from semi-scaring the crap out of himself with dumb horror movies to visiting with Veronica Lodge. Talk about zero to sixty. He never knew quite how she did it, but whenever she entered a room, she seemed to make the whole place come alive with her presence. Even in a pair of pajamas he would have bet money that she didn’t want to be caught dead in, she was in command of the situation.

     “All right,” she said suddenly, twisting around so that she was now facing him, arms folded.

     He started guiltily. He hadn’t said any of that out loud, had he? “All right, what?”

     “I was kidding before, but now I want to know.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Spill it, Andrews. Why are you sitting alone in the dark watching pathetic excuses for filmmaking instead of working on your songs? You have the whole place to yourself.”

     Archie shrugged, squirming a little under the intensity of her gaze. “I don’t know.” In some ways, he thought, Veronica was a terrifying person to be around. She always saw just a little too much of everything.

     “Hmm.” She pursed her lips, angling her head. “It’s not because there’s no one to hear you, is it?”

     “What?” Confused, he stared at her. “Why would that be it?”

     “Oh, I don’t know,” she answered. Skirting the edge of the coffee table, she dropped down beside him on the couch and extended her feet. But since her toes barely grazed the edge, she slumped down until her feet were even with his, her chin practically touching her chest. “Oh my God,” she muttered, scowling. “I can see straight down my own shirt. What kind of monster manufactures these things, anyway?”

     Archie leaned his head back against the couch, laughter spilling out. “I have _no_ idea, Ronnie. But,” he added, a little surprised at his own daring, “if you want, I can check the tag for you.”

     She gave his arm a light smack. “Maybe later. But don’t change the subject just now. We’re talking about you.” Pointing at him, she tilted her head to the side. “It’s just…I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but you have a really bad habit of drawing people in and then trying to keep them at arm’s length.”

     His eyebrows shot up at that. “Me?” he asked, shifting to face her. “ _I_ have a bad habit of doing that?”

     She smirked. “Takes one to know one, Archiekins.”

     He breathed out a laugh, shaking his head. “You would say that.”

     “I’m serious, though.”

     Looking up, Archie saw that the tease had all definitely left her face. The searching, concerned expression she wore whenever she was about to ask him something very personal was back, and he realized with only a small amount of surprise that he didn’t mind even a little bit. Something about Veronica felt warm and comfortable, and maybe even exhilarating. All she had to do was make some snarky comment, or toss her hair, or smile in his general direction, and _bam_ —Archie was having trouble focusing on anything but her.

     And okay, that sounded so sappy even in his head that he immediately hated himself for it and wanted to take it back, but it was true all the same. He liked her, and it was getting really hard to be around her and not act like he did. Especially since he’d pretty much been a goner since the first time he looked up from that booth and saw her walking into Pop’s like she owned the place. Especially since she’d kissed him after insisting that they needed to act like nothing had ever happened between them.

      “What is it?” he asked, when almost half a minute had gone by and she still hadn’t said anything.

     She sighed, slumping down farther into the couch. “You’re a really special person, Archie.”

     “Okay…” He tried to laugh it off, but his face heated and he knew he was doing a terrible job of playing it cool. God, why did he always feel like such a moron around her?

     “Aha.” Veronica reached out and tweaked his nose. “See? That right there.” She shook her head. “You’re nice. To everyone. Or, at any rate, you try to be. But you also use that niceness to keep people from digging any deeper, and that’s not good.”

     Did he? Archie frowned. “Why not?”

     “Because,” she answered. “Burying your issues never helped anyone. You can’t defeat something you keep pretending doesn’t exist, whether it’s stage fright, anger, or something else entirely. You’re letting your fear of striking out keep you from playing the game.”

     Archie’s mind zipped back to a few weeks ago, to something she’d said to him in the darkness of FP Jones’ trailer.

     “So you do sports metaphors, too?” he asked, unable to keep a smirk off his face.

     A dark eyebrow arched up on her forehead. “What can I say? I’m talented.”

     “Uh-huh.” If he leaned down right now and kissed her, that would mess up any hope of ever going back to just being friends, wouldn’t it?

     As if she’d read his mind, Veronica smirked up at him. “In case you were considering being shy and gentlemanly, Mr. Emily Post, that was a big, fat invitation to screw everything sensible I’ve ever said and just kiss me. Or do I need to go track down some poster-board and make you a sign in neon puff paint?”

     Archie grinned. “Well, I wouldn’t want to be rude, Mrs. Popper.”

     Veronica caught his chin as he leaned in, holding him still inches away from her face. “Question, Gingerbread Boy,” she said, both brows raised this time. “Do you _A,_ want to make out with something besides a pillow tonight, or _B_ , continue reminding me of my fabulously sexy attire?”

     “Uh…” He pretended to think it over. “Which pillow are we talking about?”

     She rolled her eyes, making him laugh. Then she joined in, shaking her head as she relaxed her grip on his chin and reached up to place her hands on either side of his face.

     “You’re lucky you’re cute, Andrews,” she told him through her chuckles, thumbs stroking over his cheeks as her dark eyes bored into his.

     “Oh?” He’d intended to sound cocky, but he could feel his face reddening again and was pretty sure he hadn’t pulled that off. “I’m cute?”

     “Mmm.”  Veronica tugged him closer, winding her arms around his neck as she brought his mouth to hers. “You’ll do,” she murmured against his lips.

     Archie smiled into the kiss, making her giggle. “Even though I’m a brooder?”

     “Hey, I’m a spoiled. Aggressive. Jerk,” she breathed, punctuating the words with light, warm kisses. Her fingers raked over his scalp, increasing his heartrate to a point where he was sure she had to be able to hear it. “We all have our little failings. Wouldn’t blame you if you ditched me for mine.”

     His chest tightened at the casualness of her tone. “I would never do that,” he told her, resting his forehead against hers while they both paused to catch their breath.

     She nodded, panting a little. “I know.”

     “And you’re not any of that stuff, okay?” he added. “Not to me.”

     Veronica smiled, something in her face softening. “Oh, Archiekins,” she said, almost teasingly. “You really are one of a kind.”

     Arching upwards, she brought her lips back to his with an intensity that made his brain whirl and forced him to dig the heels of his hands into the cushions on either side of her just to keep from sort of collapsing. Even so, he somehow ended up lying half on top of her, one hand on her waist, the other tangled hopelessly in her hair as they traded kiss after blistering kiss.

     When they finally broke apart, gasping for air, he gave her what was easily the biggest, dumbest grin he had ever grinned. He wanted to say something funny. Something clever. But he was lightheaded, his pulse raced, and the best he could do when he could speak again was croak out, “Likewise, Ronnie.”

     But that was okay. She knew what he meant.

**Author's Note:**

> *I don't know what inspired this other than an idea that it would be funny to see Veronica prancing around in flannel penguin PJs, and it just seems like Betty and Polly would be the ones to talk her into wearing them.  
> *As frustrating as Cheryl can be, I don't think Veronica would ever get mad and leave if she knew the girl was desperate enough to walk out on the ice like that. I do, however, think that it annoys her to see someone who is having a kindness extended to them be rude to the people extending that kindness. Betty and Polly are the type to overlook that offense; Veronica isn't. So in my head, Cheryl was being the party-crashing version of herself, and Veronica had enough and left before she did something she knew she'd regret. 
> 
> ****I want to write more fics for Archie/Veronica, so if you have an idea/prompt (I can't do smut, FYI), let me know on tumblr (alwaysspeakshermind) or in the comments!


End file.
